Thanks for your notes - they totally rock my day.

'

And, if you're interested, look up "Swan Lake Music Box" on Youtube to hear what it sounds like. A little trivia: I had a little geisha music box that played it when I was little. It's haunting... especially when it slows down.

'

As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

'


Chapter 14 – Death


'

Bella had a death grip on the steering wheel as she careened down the – thankfully – empty evening streets, fervently trying to remember to stay on the right side of the road. Which, in this country, happened to be the left.

Blinking tears from her eyes that were making halos of the streetlamps, she glanced fearfully in the rearview mirror. She didn't know what she expected to see. A rabid wolf chasing down her flimsy hatchback, perhaps?

Drawing in a shaking breath, Bella wiped her tear-stained face with the back of a trembling hand and then returned it to the wheel. Luckily it was only about 16km back from the shop on the outskirts of town to Knighton and the George and Dragon Inn.

She jerked the car haphazardly into the first parking space she found near her destination and yanked up the parking brake. Leaning her head back on the seat, she closed her eyes for a moment as her breath heaved like she'd just sprinted those last 10 miles instead of driving them.

How could that have gone so wrong?

Bella shook her head slowly and then opened bleary eyes. Her last vestiges of hope had shattered, baring the desolation that she no longer had the strength to deny.

Swallowing, Bella pushed open the car door and arduously swung her feet out to the ground. Feeling nauseous, she leaned over her thighs, letting her head hang between her knees as her heart continued to ricochet off her ribs.

HOW could that have gone so wrong!

It had been her last hope, and she had totally blown it. Well to be fair, even in the 20/20 of hindsight, she couldn't figure what she could have done differently to change the outcome. That man had had centuries to calcify in bitterness and hate. There was nothing a "doe-eyed ingénue" could do in the space of a few short hours – or weeks, for that matter -to change that.

Laughing humorlessly as her mind played back the disastrous evening – along with all his histrionics – Bella pushed up off her thighs and climbed out of the car.

She paused, rolling her eyes at her laughable parking job, and then threw the door shut with a "fuck it" slam and strode toward the George and Dragon Inn.

The narrow streets were strangely empty, tumbling mist creeping on cat paws over the cobblestone sidewalks.

BONG!

A doleful bell pealed once through the night. Bella glanced up: it was 10:30.

Straight ahead, Knighton's famous clock tower loomed sentry to each fleeting minute of her life. Bella shivered, the hairs going up on the back of her neck.

Casting an unnerved glance behind her, Bella hurried to Pub – below the Inn – and its medieval-style paned window casting a waffle imprint of light across the road. Jasper had said to meet him here.

With another nervous glance down the deserted street – she couldn't shake the feeling she was being followed – Bella pushed open the door and was instantly absorbed into the raucous sound of ale, music and mates (in the British sense of the word).

The stark contrast to the empty street was shocking.

Bella stood in the doorway for a moment, slack-jawed, as her gaze drifted over the chaos of carefree laughter, heckling at televised football (again, in the British sense of the word), and the clink of glass mugs and heavy drinking. This is why the streets were so empty: everyone was here!

Sucking down lager like there was no tomorrow…on a Tuesday night.

The smell of fresh-baked bread and stew wafted over the tang of ale and coaxed Bella forward a few more steps into the room. The door closed behind her with the jingle of sleigh bells.

That bell was like the starting gun and Bella stumbled under the weight of hopelessness closing over her head.

Her gaze was caught by the figure that shot up at the far side of the room.

Jasper. She sighed in relief.

Eyes trained desperately on his familiar form, her feet slowly carried her around tables filled with rough journeymen toward the private booth in the far corner. As she approached, Jasper sat back down, concern pulling at his brow and putting tension in his spine. Bella slid into the seat opposite him and leaned back against the six-foot dark oak booth that felt like it was from a set from Lord of the Rings. She closed her eyes as her breath frantically tried to recapture its rhythm.

After a moment, Bella opened her eyes to Jasper's tense gaze, his hands clasping an untouched glass tankard of amber lager on the heavy oak table. Sucking in a deep breath, Bella leaned forward and her hands reached out in silent petition.

Jasper scooted the mug toward her across the knotted grain. Bella grabbed up the glass and brought it shakily to her lips and took a long draught of bitter, foamy liquid.

Shuddering, she set it back down and met Jasper's worried eyes. Eyes that were reassuringly honey-light.

"He won't help," she whispered.

Jasper expelled a breath through his nose. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Bella swallowed thickly and nodded. "He nearly took my head off," she wheezed as she again slurped down another mouthful of foul beer. At least it was warming the hopeless chill inside her.

"Tell me what happened, Bella," Jasper's hand snaked tentatively across the table.

Bella's met his halfway and her fingers frantically intertwined with his marble touch.

Jasper looked up from their clasped hands with sad smile. "Tell me," he repeated quietly. "You probably learned a lil' somethin' that we can use."

Bella sniffed a laugh. "Oh, yeah. I learned several 'lil' somethin's,'" she commented dryly.

The front door wheezed open with the telltale jingle of the bell and Bella whipped around, with in a sharp breath. Her nerves were shot.

A man hunched in a hooded sweatshirt blustered into room as his cronies at the bar sent up unintelligible grunts of greeting. Bella turned back to where Jasper was casually watching the scene.

He met her gaze expectantly. "So," he urged, scooting a bowl of stew flanked by a chunk of hearty bread toward her.

And Bella began.

For almost an hour, she told him every sequence of events, every detail she could remember of her devastating meeting with the enigmatic Grey Mocker. From his asinine attitude to the heartbreak of his life's story, Bella related it all in a halting monotone as she took sip after sip from the mug of ale.

He listened with rapt attention and zero commentary until she got to the appalling revelations about the Fae's "dirty little secret." Then, his cool composure disintegrated in shock.

He abruptly sat back like he'd grounded a lightning strike.

Bella watched Jasper's mouth soundlessly open and close as she ripped off a piece of bread and dunked it in the stew. She took a bite and continued stoically on.

Finally she came to the frayed bitter end of the tale and her words dwindled to silence as her gaze fell to her half-eaten stew.

Bella fished a carrot from around the neglected chunks of beef, and chewed on it mechanically.

"So, there's no hope of his help," she whispered to her plate. "And I guess I can't blame him."

Jasper leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. Bella met his gaze with her anguish.

"What are y' gonna do, darlin'?" he asked quietly.

Bella shook her head in resignation. "What's left?" she sighed hopelessly.

Jasper's brow dipped in sympathy. "Well, we can see if Rose an' Emmett have found Vladimir yet…" he shoved his lip through his teeth thoughtfully. "Since you confirmed that angle, I think it's our best card to play in this thing," he mused. "It's jus' gonna take time," his lips pursed apologetically.

Bella sniffed a laugh. "More than two weeks," she hissed.

Jasper's gaze fell to the table where his finger came up to idly trace a knot in the wood.

Bella pushed her plate to the side and sat back, closing her eyes with a doleful sigh. For several minutes – or maybe hours – they sat silently across from one another, immersed in the gaiety of the simpler lives around them.

"You were right, y'know," Jasper's sudden whisper made her heavy lids slip open.

She watched him with tired eyes as he swallowed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "It was greed," he whispered.

Bella cocked her head against the worn wood behind her.

"I'm sorry," he continued with hushed sincerity. "I never really had no one show me that kindness a' yours, and I got all gluttonous about it." He sniffed a humorless laugh. "Our kind is insatiable by our very natures-"

Bella sat up with a contentious furrow of her brow, ready to call him on the evasion.

"But," Jasper continued quickly with a staying raise of his brow. "It don't have to be that way," he affirmed with a small knowing smile.

Bella's mouth closed with a soft pop. It was exactly what she was going to say.

"I do love you, y'know," he murmured as his face softened to sentimental. "You're kind… givin', acceptin', just so real," his brow dipped earnestly. "And those powerful emotions a' yours..." he shook his head with a sing-song humming relish.

Bella rolled her eyes, instinctively lightening the sheer gravity of such a confession.

Jasper smiled softly and leaned forward as his hands slid over the table to take each of her own. "There ain't another being on this earth who'da looked in these eyes…" he pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. "These empty, soulless eyes... and bothered to offer any kind of understandin'. Any hope for redemption at all."

Bella blinked back tears at such heartfelt words and she turned her hands over to grasp his.

"But you did," he whispered.

"Jasper-…" Bella began in a watery voice.

"What'd I do?" He spoke over her, his face hardening in disgust. "I just tried to take more," he spat.

"See, I didn't know the first thing about love before you taught me," he cocked his head as he eyes narrowed intensely. "I didn't know that it ain't what you get, but what you give. And there's all kinds a flavors of it - none of 'em better than the other - but all of 'em about the same thing: accepting and giving.

And expecting nothin' back."

Bella held Jasper's unadorned gaze for several awed heartbeats as she squeezed his cold, inert flesh. It took a good man to admit his mistakes.

It took an exceptional one to learn from them.

Jasper's adam's apple bobbed with his swallow. "I want to be your friend, Bella," he declared passionately. "And I'm gonna do everything I can to get you through this mess … stand by you until that filthy rat-bastard's dead. And your mate and lil' boy never have to worry."

Bella pressed her lips together in a quiet sob as tears finally broke free from her lashes. Sniffling wretchedly, she pulled her hands from Jasper's grasp and wiped at her cheeks impatiently.

Jasper sat back and a sad smile curved his lips. "Aren't we a pair, huh?" he chuckled humorlessly.

Bella nodded with a little hysterical giggle as she blinked through salty sorrow.

"A tender human angel who's lost the will to live," he murmured, handing her a napkin. "And a soulless immortal who's just learning what it means to be alive."

Bella sniffled and wiped her messy face with the napkin. "Poetic," she hiccupped.

Jasper wiggled his brows with a pompous smile.

A sincere laugh burst from her lips and Jasper grinned.

Bella set down the napkin on the table and considered him a moment. "But I think they're all wrong," she whispered.

Jasper's brow raised.

"You're not soulless," Bella murmured earnestly.

Jasper's face softened and he again reached out his hand to cover hers. "Thanks, lil' darlin'."

Bella nodded once and her gaze fell to the table as her mind spun in hopeless circles. This heartfelt conversation just stripped her defenses down a little too close to the intimate quick. Her heart was such a swollen, heavy thing.

"Bella," Jasper murmured.

She looked up with eyes that were again leaking despair.

"I know how to make it quick," he breathed.

Bella blinked in confusion and two tears sprinted down her cheeks.

"When all this is over...when that bastard's sent to burn for eternity in hell," he growled, baring his teeth. Jasper rearranged himself and leaned over the table, squeezing her hand. "If you still want to die..." he licked his lips as his eyes bored into hers with intensity.

Bella gulped with a little nod.

He finished in a vow made in nearly an inaudible whisper, "I'll help you with that too."

Bella's eyes darted between his somber gaze for a moment.

As wrong as it probably was, there was unspeakable comfort in that oath. Not just that she would die at the hands of someone she trusted – if she made it that far – but that, no matter how he felt about it, he'd do everything he could to give her what she needed.

In other words, a friend.

Slipping her hand from his, she stood, leaning over the table. Both trembling palms reached out to cup his jaw with all the tenderness in her being.

"Thank you," she murmured as she gazed deep into his amber eyes.

Jasper's lids fluttered closed and he swallowed thickly.

With a sad smile, Bella leaned closer and pressed her lips to that cool cheek and Jasper sucked in a breath of surprise through his teeth.

"Thank you for everything, Jasper," she whispered by his ear and then rubbed her cheek sweetly over his jaw as she pulled away.

She sat back in her seat and watched his expressive eyes pop open, a touched awe softening them.

"That kiss I gave willingly," Bella smiled.

" 'Much better than the first," Jasper agreed with a canny raise to his brow.

"Much better," Bella grinned.

To her relief, the tension between them had completely evaporated, leaving nothing but the tender affection between two friends who had many trials and tribulations behind him.

And before them as well.

If Bella had to fall down this stairway to hell, it was comforting not to have to do it alone.

"I think I need to have a lil' chat with Rose and Emmett," Jasper sucked in a resetting breath, instinctively folding away the intimacy of the moment and returning to the task at hand. " 'See if they got any news and give 'em an update on the dirty lil' secrets you dug up."

Bella nodded and sat back, pulling the half-drunk mug of ale toward her. "Mind if I stay here for a few minutes?" she asked, idly tracing the condensation on the glass. She needed some time alone to readjust and reset - and she just didn't want to do it in an empty hotel room.

"Shore thing, darlin'," Jasper returned easily with an encouraging nod. "Just relax down here as long as you like - I got a tab goin' so you can get you a few more a' those lagers if you want."

"Kay," Bella sighed, taking another sip of the ale which was suddenly not so bitter. She barely ever drank alcohol, so she already had a nice soothing buzz going on.

And it was the perfect antidote to the rest of the day.

A private smile curved Jasper's lips as if that fact already showed on her face. "Just call if you need help getting up the stairs," he laughed softly.

Bella's eyelids fluttered as she gave him a long-suffering sigh.

Jasper snickered as he stood and scooted out of the booth.

"I'll be upstairs," he informed her, genially patting the back of her hand. With another kind smile, Jasper turned and weaved through the crowded room toward the door.

Bella leaned back and brought the glass of ale again to her lips …and then set it down in annoyance. Her arm itched, she realized. Shoving up her sleeve, Bella pulled at the silicon burn-bandage Jasper had made her place over his still-oozing bite - to mask the smell of blood, he'd said. Pulling off the offending thing, she absently rubbed her fingers over the tender wound as her mind cataloged all the traumatic events of the last four days.

For maybe 20 minutes, maybe more, Bella sat quietly in the reveling chaos of working class indulgence and let a second glass of lager ooze through her veins with counterfeit calm.

She needed to sleep. She'd barely rested at all over the last few days - afraid that her dreams would bring her to Paul - but now as the adrenaline ebbed, along with the beer's influence, she was finally feeling it.

Deciding finally to lay the all failures to rest for another day- along with herself - Bella scooted out from the table.

With a final glance at the booth, Bella habitually patted her pockets and then rolled her eyes at herself. Good thing she wasn't too drunk to make it up the stairs, because she'd left Jasper's phone in the car.

With an annoyed huff, Bella negotiated the room of dwindling patrons, and, with a casual "thank you" to the bartender, slipped out.

The heavy door of the Pub squeaked closed behind her with a thunk, muffling the noise and throwing the street into silence. Bella glanced up at the clock tower: a little past midnight. Rubbing her arms against the damp chill of the fog that rolled thickly now down the deserted streets, Bella headed down the block for the car.

She could see it up ahead. It was hard to miss - nearly jackknifed in the small stall, one bumper sticking out in the road.

"Bella, you suck at parallel parking," she muttered to herself. She should've asked Jasper to fix that before he went upstairs. After two glasses of strong Welsh spirits, she certainly wasn't going to attempt it herself.

As she neared the car, she pulled out her keys and they jingled, echoing through the silence like a sparkling tune. Bella's breath caught in her throat as she stilled them in her palm - that wasn't an echo, it was...music.

Stopping in the middle of the cobblestone sidewalk, Bella craned her neck to catch the tinkling little melody that swirled as ephemeral as the mists around her.

She knew that song. Swan Lake.

Her breath had gone shallow and light in her breast as Bella took several tentative steps toward the spiderweb notes that climbed the walls of the buildings lining the empty street.

Several stumbling steps brought her to an alley between two darkened shops. Her heart pounding in her throat, Bella peered down the gloomy passageway and saw the music box sitting open on top of a trash bin, playing its haunting melody to no one.

No one, but her.

Bella's head whipped up and down the deserted street, as her breath skated over parted lips.

What was this doing here?Had the Were reconsidered?

A million wispy thoughts swirled in her tipsy mind as she took two steps toward the little instrument, tugged by an irresistible curiosity. With a few more steps she reached the box, her hands running over the wooden inlay in disbelief. Blinking, her fingers traced the velvet interior:

No note, no nothing.

"Well look what I've caught in my little trap," a chilling and familiar voice crooned from behind.

Bella froze, her eyelids fluttering closed as a cold wash of dread crept up her spine.

Drawing a breath through her nose, Bella slowly turned around. The Grey Mocker was leaning indolently against the mouth of the alley.

"A little mousie," he murmured theatrically and pushed off the wall, taking a step toward her. "Or is it a rat?" he hissed.

"What're you doing here?" she wheezed, her hand gripping the rubbish bin to steady the vertigo of fear.

"Do you know I actually believed you?" he accused in a harsh whisper as if she hadn't spoken. "I fell for those doe-eyed tears like the daft little chump you thought me to be, didn't I?"

Bella gulped and backed up a step.

"I felt so horrid," he shook his head with fake dismay and an exaggerated purse to his lips. "So horrid, that I thought I'd bring you a little token of amends..." he continued, clasping his hands before him and glancing at the music box that was tinkling merrily on, oblivious to the menace in the air.

"But what do I find? I find you with one of them," he bit out words that disintegrated into a growl. "Fondling… kissing, even!" he snarled gutturally.

Bella's throat had constricted in terror and she slowly shook her head as she fled from that frightening prowl. She tripped over a cardboard box and caught herself against the wall. "It-It's not wh-what it looks-" she wheezed.

"BULLSHIT!" he roared. "When he passed me at the bar, I could smell it!" He lunged forward and yanked Bella up by the arm, making her stumble toward him with a whimper of pain.

Ripping up her sleeve, he twisted her arm out roughly as maniacal eyes raked across the wound - a bold, oozing bite mark in contrast to her white skin.

"I could smell you on him and I knew! You let him drink your blood!" he wrenched her toward him, grabbing her other arm in a vise-like grip. "What else did you let him do? Just a whore making the supernatural rounds, eh little bitch?" he hissed vehemently, so the spittle sprayed across her face. "I should have taken my turn, when I had the chance," he bit out obscenely.

"H-he's j-just a friend," Bella gasped, her eyes clenching shut from terror and the pain in his grip.

The Wolf laughed bitterly and threw her effortlessly across the ally. Bella crashed into a pile of wooden boxes, crying out as her arm broke with an audible snap on impact.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't sully myself with such filth," he disparaged.

Bella sobbed quietly as she cradled her arm, her feet scrabbling against the cement, frantically trying to stand as the Wolf continued to stalk her.

"You played me..." his voice had gone deep and rumbling. "Who'd of thought burlesque kindness could pack such a sucker punch, eh?" he laughed in a nearly inhuman growl. His silhouette rippled eerily in the darkness and with a gasp of pain, he doubled over. "You beat me at my own game!" he ground out through his teeth as his body convulsed.

"P-Please..." Bella choked on her panic as tears sprinted down her cheeks. "It's n-not-"

The Wolf straightened suddenly, skewering her with pure, unadulterated hate. "YOU GAVE ME HOPE!" he bellowed, his voice breaking and crumbling like hard clay. "How dare you! You made me-…"

With a deafening bellow of agony he threw his head back. His tortured cries were shattered by animalistic growls, as, before Bella's eyes, he Changed. His body flailing wildly, it contorted in on itself. The repulsive snapping of bone and gruesome ripping of flesh churned in the ghastly soundtrack of the music box's slowing melody.

In mere a blink of a brutally violent transformation, a dark wolf – only a little larger than a normal wolf with thickened sinewy muscles under its short fur - lunged up forcefully off the concrete alleyway and snarled viciously.

Bella froze in horror as the beast's lips peeled back from long, gleaming fang. It was nothing like Paul's Wolf, not a sentient or receptive glimmer in its savage eyes. Ears pressed back, it slunk toward her on powerful haunches, pure hate wrinkling its muzzle while a slaughterous growl rumbled in its chest.

Bella's shaking hand came up to cover her mouth. And in that last crystal clear moment of life, she suddenly knew she was going to die.

"I'm so sorry, Paul," she whimpered into her palm.

And they were the last words to leave her lips as the beast lunged for her with a snapping maw.

After that, it was nothing but screams.

'

'


'

'

Paul pulled the plane across the grain of the maple plank, following with a smoothing palm to dust off the curls of wood.

When he kept his hands busy, it was better.

So that's what he'd done over the last day and a half. He'd kept them busy - attentively tending his son, helping Emily with her chores, and, as he was doing now, fixing the wreckage of what had been her beloved kitchen.

"Brady's mate wants to come," Jared snorted between growling pulls of his saw not 10 feet away.

"Yeah, I heard that," Jacob chuckled from where he sat in the grass outside the back door, and wiped a paintbrush dripping with varnish over a cabinet face.

Paul leaned down and gazed over the surface of the plank he was preparing before they assembled it inside the kitchen - otherwise the massive dining table wouldn't fit inside the door. Sam set a glass of lemonade down on the unsealed wood which Paul snatched up with lightning reflexes and an irritable growl.

Chuckling at his expense, Sam sat down on the back step and tipped his own glass to his lips. It was mid-day on Tuesday and the rest of the Pack had taken kids, mates – and Charlie and Sue - down to the beach for a picnic.

So the four of them could plan for war.

Paul had shared snatches of the conversation with Topher via the Pack mind, leaving out the most incriminating lessons he had learned. Paul was a private man, and there was no way he was going to be discussing 'love' with anyone other than his mate ...and maybe a freaky seven-foot bad-assed muthafucker.

He guessed he had could make one exception.

"Kai might be kinda handy to have around," Sam snickered. "He's the only one who can cook worth a shit."

Paul glanced over his shoulder with a derisive smirk. "Except you, sissy Sammy?"

His lips baring resentful canines, Sam tore out an ice cube and chucked it Paul.

Which Paul lithely dodged, snatching it out of the air before it could hit his perfect tabletop.

"We'll be eating out," Jacob groaned in a 'now, now, children' tone.

Suddenly all four of them froze, turning as one toward the sound down the driveway. The distinct sputter of a Cadillac made Paul roll his eyes with a huff and then unceremoniously return to his work.

"Whatttay think he wants now?" Sam asked nervously, setting his glass down and wiping his hands on his thighs.

Paul shrugged and pulled the planer across the wood with feigned nonchalance. Underneath his composure was burning with an all-consuming worry for his imprint. At the first sound of those tires crunching in the gravel, his heart had made a run for it up his throat.

He closed his eyes and measured the breath through his nose as Sam went around the front to greet Topher.

"You okay?" Jacob murmured, showcasing his annoying-as-shit blue-blood.

Paul's gaze darted to those sickeningly empathic eyes and he bared his teeth in warning.

"Howzit goin' boyz?" Topher rumbled as he came around back, flanked by a painfully uncomfortable-looking Sam.

Paul grunted non-committally and continued to push the planer meticulously across the wood while Jared fumbled with the hammer and glanced nervously at his Alpha.

Jacob rolled his eyes with a snort at the three of them and plopped the brush in the can, collapsing on the lawn and considering the large man with a grin and his usual dauntless charm. "Since we all know you know the answer to that, big man, why don't you tell us what we can do for you."

"Fair 'nough, Cuz," Topher chuckled slyly. "Well I was thinkin' I needed a lil' vay-cay. Y'know, soak up some sun, get a lil' summer time in the country, all that shit," he grumbled as his cigar bobbed idly in the corner of his mouth.

Paul froze and straightened, eyeing Topher with interest as his own lightning mind sped ahead. He would feel much better leaving Caleb if Topher had his eye out, and - if he was right - that's exactly what the man (or whatever he was) was offering

Topher pointedly met his gaze. "Maybe help take care of the lil' chil'rens while youz all out and about," he murmured in cryptic affirmation.

Paul nodded tersely and turned to Sam's confused expression. "He can bunk at our place - it's probably good if everyone stays close including Charlie-…"

Paul choked on his words as - like he had been doused in Napalm - his entire body was engulfed in a viscous, burning pain. Gagging on his own tongue, every muscle seized and he slammed into the ground, knocking over one of the saw horses and making the heavy table crash down over him.

Paul didn't even notice that it was quickly removed by frantic hands, but bellowed hoarsely as his body continued to flail in excruciating agony. It was like he was being mauled by an invisible animal, its jaws ripping the flesh from his body, its foaming saliva burning like acid.

He arched against the ground, his teeth grinding, his hands digging into the soil as what felt like a mortal blow crushed his ribcage. Suddenly what felt like a huge hand followed the decimation and fisted around his heart, yanking it from his body and tugging along with it its network of nerves. It pulled a high keening wail from the deepest recesses of Paul's being.

The steel cables that held his very soul in place snapped with such force that his entire body spasmed across the ground.

And then it simply stopped.

The thud of Paul's heart echoed in his ears along with the heaves of his breath. Paul swallowed and his hand came up blindly to his chest - fully intact and uninjured - except for the invisible fluttering heartstrings where his imprint used to be.

Paul's eyes popped open to Jacob's terrified face leaning over him.

"Paul!" Jacob was gasping. "Jesus Christ!"

Paul pushed him roughly away as he lunged forward to slump over his thighs, panting like a racehorse as his ravaged, lonely heart tried to chew its way out of his chest. Hiccupping a hoarse sob, Paul bit his lip as his entire world tilted on its axis. It was a vertigo so violent that he heaved to his knees and puked convulsively until there was simply nothing left.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made his face whip up to where Topher was crouched beside him, an expression of tender concern that Paul had never seen softening the man's face.

Paul licked his lips as nostrils flared against prickling tears. "She's dead," he whispered hollowly.

Topher somberly nodded. "This time, she is."

'


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